


The Banks Where Amaranths Blow

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of worsening lyrium withdrawal, Cullen strikes up a friendship with Dorian--which of course turns into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Skyhold was quiet when the Inquisitor was away.

Cullen met with Leliana and Josephine frequently to discuss important matters and share information, but there was only so much that could be done without Inquisitor Lavellan’s input. When he wasn’t meeting with the other advisors, Cullen busied himself inspecting the new recruits and leading training exercises, and if he wasn’t on the field with the other soldiers, he could be found in his office going over paperwork and signing missives. It wasn’t that the Inquisitor’s absence heralded boredom, but Cullen found that the workings of the Inquisition’s headquarters lacked a certain urgency and energy that was otherwise striking and frenetic when Lavellan was present.

Cullen made his way back to his office from a short war table meeting, but opted to take a longer route through the gardens. The mountain air always had a cold, sharp bite to it—but on cloudless days like these the sun melted warm and pleasent into everything, and Josephine had mentioned that the Crystal Grace the Inquisitor had planted was starting to prettily bloom. Although the meeting had been quick, a hot, throbbing pain had sunk hard behind his eyes and Cullen figured that a few minutes of undisturbed peace amongst the flowers and birds would do him well. His withdrawal from lyrium continued to punish him daily--a painful thrum flaring relentless and sick and hot--and it was moments like these where he was thankful for the quiet that settled in the Inquisitor’s absence.

As he stepped into the garden, he saw that he wasn’t the only one with the idea of spending idle time in the sunshine. This was unsurprising, but the Commander’s gaze was caught and held by Dorian who seemed to be in the middle of setting up a game of chess.

‘Good morning, Commander,’ Dorian called brightly before getting straight to the point. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy a game of chess, do you?’ Intrigued, Cullen walked over and surveyed the board.

‘I haven’t played in a very long time,’ he admitted, rubbing his neck. He glanced back up at Dorian. Truth be told, he didn’t know much about the man apart from him being a mage from Tevinter and his constant presence in the library—or so he'd heard from Leliana with regards to the latter. Of course his role in the Inquisition was an invaluable one, and Lavellan often took him with her on her missions abroad. They seemed to get along very well, and Cullen wondered absently why he wasn’t with her this time. ‘But…I do enjoy chess. Alright then, I’ll play.’

‘Good,’ the mage quipped, stroking his moustache absently with a cheeky grin as Cullen settled into the chair opposite him. ‘You’ll put up a _bit_ of a fight, won’t you Commander? I’ve beaten every single person I’ve harassed into a game and while that’s all well and good for _me_ , victory is so much sweeter after an actual challenge. You’re no stranger to that, yes?’

Cullen found himself grinning. ‘Too true,’ Cullen agreed, and they began to play.

Dorian found Cullen to be a worthy opponent. He hadn’t been lying when he’d boasted his victory over everyone he’d challenged prior to now—did Fereldans have no knowledge of chess at all? _Highly_ embarrassing. But Cullen, Dorian decided, actually knew what he was doing—while he didn’t doubt that the Commander hadn’t played in a long time, Dorian was able to tell that Cullen’s moves, although fumbling and slow, were products of tentative strategy instead of random plays.

‘In Tevinter, chess wasn’t just a game of fancy but a lesson in logic and tactics,’ the mage was saying. Cullen surveyed the board and nodded, concentrating.

‘Did you play often?’ he asked, carefully moving a piece. ‘As a child, I mean.’

‘Oh yes,’ Dorian laughed. ‘But after awhile, nobody wanted to play me anymore. I was terribly lonely.’

‘I can’t imagine that had anything to do with your poor sportsmanship,’ Cullen chuckled, his scar quirking the edge of his lip. The way Dorian's eyes flickered as he tracked the movement was not lost on Cullen. 

‘My sportsmanship is and was perfectly respectable,’ Dorian sniffed, glancing sharp and away from the other man as he moved a piece and overtook one of Cullen’s. It continued on like this—quips and jibes that amused Cullen. He knew his own wit was nowhere near as sharp and quick as Dorian’s, but he found he greatly enjoyed the other man’s company.

‘Have you really played everyone? In Skyhold?’ Cullen asked, moving a piece to guard his king. 'I wasn't aware you had so much free time.'

‘Well, no,’ Dorian admitted, shooting the Commander a withering glance. ‘I was being a tad overdramatic when I said that, but I have played against many people. And won,’ he quickly added. ‘Yesterday I tried to play with Cole.’

‘I imagine it was an interesting game?’

‘Interesting,’ Dorian repeated, tapping the side of his chin. ‘Yes, that’s one way you could put it. He didn’t seem to find chess to be very entertaining and instead spent the entire time asking me why _I_ find it entertaining. I don’t think he knows about…games.’ The mage spread his hands with a sigh and Cullen laughed. While vaguely unsettling, Cullen couldn’t deny that Cole’s strange idiosyncrasies and mannerism had a strange—albeit eery—charm to them, although he’d rather throw himself off a cliff than admit that to the rest of the Inquisition; Cassandra and Vivienne in particular were still antagonising the Inquisitor over having the strange boy stay.

His laugh was cut short as Dorian swiftly captured another one of his pieces, however.

‘And before Cole?’ Cullen asked, focusing hard on the board.

‘The Inquisitor. She’s a terrible player,’ Dorian answered lightly with a sigh. ‘But then again, it was her first time playing chess, so there you go.’

‘I hope you weren’t too hard on her,’ Cullen replied.

‘Oh, she’s used to it,’ Dorian waved his hand, and took another one of Cullen’s pieces. ‘It’s why she keeps me around, you know. To keep her enormous ego in check.’

Cullen snorted. Inquisitor Lavellan, while possessing a fiery and passionate temperament, was nonetheless one of the most humble and down to earth women he knew. ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s why.’

Unfortunately, Cullen was unable to ask after the other members of the Inquisition that Dorian had played—at that moment, Dorian put his King in checkmate; the game was finished. Cullen found his own defeat rather unsurprising and he rubbed the back of his neck, vaguely self-conscious of his spectacular loss. 

‘Tsk tsk, Commander,’ Dorian clucked, stretching back in his chair lazy with contentment at his victory. ‘But that was actually quite fun, I’ll give you that.’

‘It was a welcome distraction,’ Cullen agreed with a grin, standing up. He wondered vaguely if it was only his loss that Dorian found entertaining, or if the mage had enjoyed his company as well--but then the thought was gone. ‘From work. Not just the game, but your company. Thank you.’

‘My, Commander, you’re too kind. I would like to distract you again with another game sometime,’ Dorian quirked an eyebrow, his moustache twitching with amusement. ‘If you don’t mind my poor sportsmanship, that is.’

Cullen was sure a blush was spreading across his face, but he found himself not uncomfortable with Dorian's flirting. It was his understanding that Dorian flirted with nearly everyone simply because he _could_ , much to the delight and chagrin of the other Inquisition members--depending on who you asked. Whatever the expression was on his face, Dorian must have found it amusing as his eyes twinkled dark but not unkindly.

 ‘I am terribly out of practice, as you've just seen’ Cullen gestured to the board that was now packed up in Dorian’s arms. ‘But I’ll try not to be too boring. I’ll…continue to lose in an entertaining way, perhaps.’

Dorian laughed outright at that, echoing bright and sharp in the garden courtyard. ‘Just for me? I look forward to our next game. It was a pleasure, Commander.’

The two men parted ways. Dorian, Cullen was sure, was heading back to his spot in the library to read, but he had no idea if it was for leisure or research. He decided to ask Dorian about all the reading he did if they really did play another game together. His morning had been a good one, but as he climbed the stairs to the battlements his thoughts drifted to the mountain of missives sitting atop his desk waiting for his signature, and Cullen felt his headache from earlier creeping heavy and sinister to coil behind his eyes. He paused, his gloved hand on the handle of his office door as he realised with a pleasant surprise that he hadn't felt his headache at all while he'd sat with Dorian, or the nausea that was beginning to pool thick and fever hot in his belly. 

He hoped they played again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys--I want to apologise for how long it took to get this chapter up! I ended up moving to another country and all my free time has been spent settling down here and meeting up with friends. I promise that you won't have to wait more than a month again for updates!

Almost a week later, Dorian found himself playing chess with Krem. The soldier wasn’t as good as Dorian—because no one was better than Dorian at chess, a fact of many that he enjoyed reminding himself about on a consistent basis—but it had been a good game. The other man, while not as passionate about chess as Dorian, nonetheless had a good knowledge of the game due to his upbringing in Tevinter. They’d sat in the hazy yellow light of the tavern, board between them flanked by Krem’s tankard of beer and Dorian’s glass of wine, as ambient conversation surged and pulsed warm around them. They’d spoken Tevene together, although Krem’s accent was rough with misuse.

‘It’s been awhile, you know?’ Krem had shrugged, lazily moving one of his pieces. ‘Sometimes we do jobs in Tevinter but our swords do all the talking.’

‘I imagine for a group like The Chargers, swords are better weapons than words.’ Dorian had intoned lightly.

‘You got that right,’ Krem had chuckled. ‘Boss isn’t really the diplomatic type. Too impatient.’

Dorian had readily agreed before taking Krem’s king.

His walk had been only slightly unsteady as he made his way back to his quarters and not for the first or last time Dorian told himself that maybe he shouldn’t be drinking so much so often. Inside the tavern, the air had thrummed with energy and movement but outside was still and silent under the nighttime sky. Dorian’s gaze had lingered on the Commander’s office and quarters; torchlight flickered orange through the windows just as something pleasant had flickered in the back of Dorian’s mind.

He’d slept well, that night.

* * *

 

Dorian found himself bored and restless in the library. The Inquisitor had taken Solas with her this time as the party’s token mage, leaving himself and Vivienne behind. It was his understanding that Lavellan would take Vivienne out on the next excursion which meant that he had a very long wait ahead of him before he was to be out in the field.

It had been a welcome break at first—especially after the disaster that was Haven. Lavellan had set him up with some scholarly tasks to complete, and he’d settled into his academic pursuits without complaint. But that had been weeks ago. He’d done all he could, and Dorian was not able to continue without Lavellan’s input on his findings.

So he’d started playing chess to pass the time. That meant bothering people to play with him.

Not the for first time, his thoughts strayed to the game he had had with the Commander. It had been easy to sit with him. He didn’t shy away from Dorian’s quips or frown at his silly jabs, didn’t roll his eyes or fidget uncomfortably at his presence and he found himself wanting to ask Cullen for another game.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was stopping him from simply asking him like he had before.

_Last time was different_ , Dorian told himself. They were in the garden, then. Dorian remembered the Commander’s relaxed posture and how he’d tilted his face up towards the sun. It had been alright then to call him over—but now? Dorian pushed his luck in many things—sarcasm whiplash sharp and a waspish wit too quick for many to properly grasp—and relied entirely on his charm and maybe his good looks to keep him out of trouble, and yet even he doubted that charm or his excellent physique were good enough reasons to pull the Commander away from his necessary and important duties.

The Advisors were different like that. He’d had no problem stomping unannounced, nose wrinkled at the heavy smell of wood and animals, into Blackwall’s barn and setting up chess as the older man frowned and grumped and gestured to the wooden horse he’d been in the middle of carving. He couldn’t imagine doing the same to Leliana. Or Josephine.

Or Cullen.

Dorian sighed and settled back in his chair, a heavy tome on something morbid spread across his lap. Twilight was falling slow and purple over the horizon and he could see torchlight winking and wavering on throughout Skyhold. It was getting late to bother anyone for a game, anyway. Perhaps tomorrow would be different.

‘Good evening, Dorian,’ Cullen’s voice was a low and gentle rumble, but nonetheless cut quick and deep into Dorian’s musings. Leliana’s crows started to squawk and caw, their hoarse calls echoing harsh and raspy through the tower.

‘Commander!’ Dorian’s movements were smooth and languid as he rose to his feet, reminding Cullen of something feline. What Cullen did not see was how Dorian’s pulse quickened with surprise, or how he forced his composure to remain cool and suave in front of the very man his thought’s had been so preoccupied with. ‘Terribly sorry, I didn’t hear you approach.’

Leliana’s birds continued to cry and flap and Cullen grinned, although his expression seemed tight with something. ‘Understandable. I, ah, don’t come here often because of the noise.’

Dorian chuckled before glancing up towards the third floor. ‘You must have an excellent reason for leaving your quiet office for this, then—although I believe Leliana is busy with our lovely Ambassador.’

‘Oh, actually, well,’ Cullen rubbed his neck and glanced down at the tome Dorian was still holding loose against his hip. ‘I actually…wanted to see you—to see if you wanted to play another game of chess—but perhaps—‘

Dorian’s laugh was sudden and sharp but just as bright as that time during their last match; something akin to relief flared small and cool in the pit of Cullen’s stomach, surprising but not at all unwelcome.

‘I’ve been wanting to see you too,’ Dorian admitted lightly with a wink, but of course Cullen had no idea of the extent of it. ‘But you seemed properly busy.’

‘I have been,’ Cullen sighed and rubbed his face, suddenly weary. Dorian raised a questioning eyebrow and leaned in briefly to the Commander to return his reading to its proper place on the shelf next to Cullen—and was taken aback by the sudden scent hovering close and heavy around Cullen’s form.

_Lyrium_ , Dorian immediately thought. Of course. Southern templars took lyrium to gain their powers, and while Dorian had read about the side effects of imbibing lyrium, this was the first time he’d experienced the ‘attractive scent’ of it that the tomes had described.

Attractive, however, was a ridiculous understatement. The scent was faint, soft— but absolutely intoxicating and suddenly Dorian was overcome with the desire to bury his face in the other man’s neck and _breathe_ and—

‘But you’re welcome in my office anytime, Dorian,’ Cullen was saying, and Dorian straightened quickly, hastily taking a step backwards. ‘Everyone is.’

If Cullen noticed the stutter in Dorian’s gaze, he didn’t say anything—much to Dorian’s relief, because this was all suddenly very strange—but then Dorian couldn’t blame the man for his lapse in attention; Cullen looked exhausted. He decided not to touch on that.

‘Oh?’ Instead, the mage’s questioning look arched into coyness, chuckling and all cocky confidence and jest as his pulse slowed back to normal and his insides settled. ‘I’ve heard otherwise—some of the scouts aren’t so keen delivering Leliana’s messages to you. You’re very grumpy, I’ve heard. But no matter—‘ Cullen opened his mouth to retort but Dorian continued on smoothly, his voice pitched low. ‘My place or yours? For chess, that is.’

Cullen stared, mouth still parted and unsure over if he should address being called grumpy or acknowledging Dorian’s silly innuendos, but then Leliana’s crows started squawking again.

* * *

 

‘Do you actually sleep up there, Commander?’ Dorian stared up the ladder in Cullen’s office. Evening had fallen properly now, and if Dorian craned his neck a certain way he could see stars twinkling through Cullen’s broken roof. He turned back to Cullen with a somewhat shocked expression.

‘I like it,’ Cullen answered simply, his mouth tilting into a grin as he cleared off a corner of his desk to set up the chess set the mage had quickly grabbed from underneath his chair in the library. Dorian tsked and stared back up at the ceiling.

‘Well _I_ don’t,’ he said.

‘You don’t have to sleep there,’ Cullen laughed, and the sound surprised him. When had been the last time he laughed? Certainly not anytime today. ‘I’m sure _your_ quarters are plush and warm with furs.’

‘Of course they are,’ Dorian replied airily, sitting down opposite the Commander. ‘You should drop by sometime, but I doubt it would suit your strange Fereldan tastes.’

And so they began to play. Dorian’s banter and flirtations were easy and comfortable and to his relief Cullen found himself—finally—relaxing. As Dorian picked at the Feralden devotion to mabari hounds and lamented about the sad state of Sera’s hair, Cullen felt the tension pull away from his bones.

His withdrawal was worsening. How long he slept at night had dwindled down into three or four hours of feverish nightmares; he was constantly exhausted and on edge. He thought he’d gotten used to that—after all, he’d really started going through withdrawal before the events at Haven— but there were other symptoms now. He often felt nauseous, yes, but now along with the nausea came dizzy spells where he could barely stay upright. If he turned or stood too quickly he was rewarded with the cruel sensation of his brain being shocked and jolted cruelly within his skull.

This was something he had to deal with. He refused to let his own discomfort interfere with his Inquisition duties.

Things _would_ be different this time: he would not fail.

But then he had remembered how comfortable he’d been with Dorian, playing chess, and over the past few days he’d become almost fixated on that memory, desperate to repeat it if it meant a reprieve from the agony wracking his mind and body.

‘Tsk, Commander,’ Dorian’s voice was admonishing. ‘Sloppy move.’

Cullen blinked and glanced down at the board. His last move had left him completely open, and he watched as Dorian claimed one of his pieces. Cullen scowled, not noticing how Dorian tracked the movement of his expression carefully.

‘That was a terrible mistake,’ he agreed. ‘I suppose I’m a bit out of sorts tonight.’

‘Excuses excuses,’ Dorian waved his hand, grinning good-naturedly when the Commander glanced up at him to show that he was joking—but the words were not lost on Dorian. It was true—Cullen’s moves were messy, frantic, weak. He wasn’t playing nearly as well as he had the last time.

‘You sound like my sister,’ Cullen chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. His brows drew together as he studied the board. ‘Always gloating. Except she was much meaner when we played chess together.’

‘Worse than me?,’ Dorian sounded scandalised. ‘I can be mean if you like. I’ve been holding back tonight.’

‘That’s quite alright,’ Cullen grinned, moving a piece. This was so easy—talking with Dorian. ‘I think I like you like this.’

‘Lovely words,’ Dorian purred, before quickly taking another one of Cullen’s pieces. The Commander just laughed softly, and Dorian found himself grinning as well as something warm and tentative flared soft in his stomach.

He tried to make the game stretch longer, but even without really trying Dorian defeated Cullen easily.

‘That was embarrassing,’ Cullen sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. ‘You must have found that all terribly boring.’

Dorian dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand.

‘It’s nice spending time with someone who thinks I’m more than just a scary Tevinter Magister,’ the mage replied conversationally before levelling his gaze only somewhat seriously with Cullen’s. ‘At least, I certainly hope you feel that way, otherwise this would all be terribly awkward, yes?’

‘Lavellan seems fond of you. If you really were a…scary Tevinter Magister, I doubt she’d keep you around.’

‘Thank goodness for Lavellan’s exquisite judge of character.’

The two men sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

‘Dorian,’ Cullen said at last, hoping that his face wasn’t doing something stupid like blushing. To Dorian’s absolute delight, it was. ‘I really…truly enjoy spending time with you. Like this. Do you mind meeting again tomorrow? Same time perhaps?’

‘Of course, Commander,’ the mage answered at once, and for a moment he was embarrassed at how quick his response was—but Cullen only smiled.

Dorian slept well that night, too.

Cullen did not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the time I said that you guys wouldn't have to wait another month for a new chapter.
> 
> Remember that.
> 
> whoops /backflips into space.

And so it began.

During the day, Dorian continued his studies and reading and when the light outside began to dim soft and cool, he’d make his way to the Commander’s quarters where they would play chess. Sometimes Cullen was busy—understandable—but instead of sending him away, he offered his small bookcase to Dorian to peruse while he finished up.

If it had been anyone else, Dorian would have politely declined and offered to come back later. He certainly couldn’t imagine a situation where it would have been appropriate to thumb through Leliana’s books while she debriefed her scouts, or Josephine’s while she entertained a visitor—but with Cullen it was different. Many things with him were different. Somehow it was easy.

Chords that had once sounded soft and distant had taken up a song that was difficult to ignore; the familiarity that had bloomed so effortlessly between them at once enthralled him but filled him with a peculiar anxiety. That troubled him.

What also troubled him was that it had become rather apparent to him that something ailed the Commander terribly.

‘Headache?’ Dorian intoned mildly over a book on templar history. Cullen had a pinched expression and kept wincing down at the report he was reading. The expression had become familiar to Dorian during their time together.

‘Yes,’ Cullen sighed. He dug the pads of his gloved fingers against his temples and rubbed hard. Dorian frowned and snapped his book shut. He’d been avoiding asking Cullen about it all because while it was easy to play chess and flirt and joke, showing the man that he was concerned about his health was…hard. Too close, too dangerous. That strange anxiety fluttered in his chest.

‘I’m sure it will pale in comparison to the pain and shame at losing to me again,’ he instead said lightly, watching carefully as Cullen’s expression softened into a grin.

‘Perhaps,’ Cullen admitted, stamping the report and settling back in his chair. He fixed Dorian with a pondering look.

He wanted to tell him—how his skull ached and throbbed. How he couldn’t sleep more than an hour or two. How his nightmares were twisted rage-filled perversions.

How when he was with him, somehow, inexplicably, everything became manageable.

It was absurd.

The soldiers had started whispering things—why was the Commander spending so much time with the Tevinter? With the mage? It filled Cullen with an uncomfortable cocktail of feelings. The last time he’d thought about getting close with a mage, it had resulted in his complete undoing; sick tortured fantasies that had flashed painful and terrible over and over and over—

‘You’re sure you really enjoy beating me all the time?’ was what came out of his mouth, but Dorian just chuckled and pulled up a chair to sit across from him. He leaned in, elbow propped on the table—and Cullen watched how the torchlight glinted off the many rings that adorned the mage’s fingers, gold and bright. They distracted him from how Dorian’s expression had hardened with something else as the peculiar scent of lyrium, ever quieter, ever softened, frayed the edges of his senses. His pulse quickened.

‘It’s not boring, if that’s what you’re asking, Commander.’

Too close, too dangerous.

But then the chessboard was set up, and for awhile there was balance: voices soft and teasing, laughter pitched low, a kind of game--not unlike the board set out between them-- that neither knew the other was playing.

* * *

 

Some days went by and Dorian decided that he was just going to do it: be a proper person and ask what was bothering Cullen. They were friends, after all. They did friend things. Playing chess, visiting often, talking—all friendly friend things. Friends asked each other if they felt unwell or if anything was bothering them. Friends.

Dorian was in the middle of staring out his window in the library, thinking of the best way to formulate such a question to the man who begun to take up more and more of his thoughts when the horns blew, heralding the Inquisitor’s return.

Suddenly the calm and quiet of Skyhold was broken. Scouts ran to and fro and Leliana’s birds shrieked and flapped as she herself strode quietly through the library and down into Solas’s rotunda, her arms full of missives. Healers flocked to the courtyard to look over Lavellan and her party, and stablehands tended to the horses. Shouts and orders echoed up through the courtyard and into a special kind of cacophony that only existed when the Inquisitor returned from her adventures.

Dorian froze as a familiar figure pushed his way through the crowd. Cullen saluted Lavellan and helped her dismount from her horse. In the brief moment that Lavellan was in his arms, she seemed so tiny and something sparked hot and fleeting--jealousy?-- as he saw how she clutched at the Commander. But then the moment was over; Cullen stood straight and serious as Lavellan talked. Perhaps she had never ridden a horse before joining the Inquisition. Dorian filed it away as something to tease her about later, but something still lingered deep in his chest and for the first time he allowed himself the knowledge that he was, perhaps, actually, falling hard for the Commander.

Dorian swore, slamming his book down and turned away from the window. If anyone threw a disapproving glance at him, he didn’t notice and even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. He barely knew the man!

But Dorian had had partners in the past where he had known far less.

No, ridiculous. He wasn’t _falling_ for the Commander--wasn't _pining_ like an adolescent. He didn’t even refer to him by his proper name when they were together. Silly chess games, superficial chatter—it was nothing. Friends.

But the Commander was kind. He let him hover and tsk over his books while he worked, didn’t reprimand or roll his eyes at his presence and—it was nice, but he doubted that the other man returned any affections more than friendship or camaraderie or—

‘Can I talk to you?’ Lavellan’s voice was soft and girlish—this time also slightly out of breath. Dorian glanced up and away from his melodrama and turmoil and into her lovely face instead. She looked nervous.

‘Congratulations on not dying,’ Dorian said with a wink. ‘Sorry for not coming down and greeting you myself, but I wanted to get this done.’ He gestured vaguely at the book he had slammed shut earlier. Ellana’s gaze flickered briefly between it and Dorian.

‘It’s fine, no worries,’ she waved her hand. Something like a report or a letter was clutched in it. ‘I didn’t expect there to be such a commotion. I only just got away, but there’s a council meeting in about half an hour. But uh.’

Ellana’s brows drew together as she looked down at the paper she’d been caring. Dorian quirked an eyebrow expectantly and waited for her to continue. She just sighed and offered the document to him.

‘It’s…from your father,’ was Ellana’s only explanation, and then the colour seemed to drain and bleed grey out of everything around Dorian. His heart started to pound a deafening and hard and painfully frantic beat and the more he read the more he felt like his blood was curdling sour and harsh; bones being twisted, crushed.

The Inquisitor didn’t speak. She just watched Dorian carefully, worriedly. His eyes scanned the letter with quick, sharp movements and flashed with a pained emotion that she had never seen the man display before.

‘Mother Giselle received the letter first and told me about it just now,’ she finally said. Dorian did not look up. ‘She…didn’t want me to give you the letter, or have you know.’

Dorian snorted. ‘She would.’

Mother Giselle’s eyes were always hardened and cold whenever they fell on him. Not like—Cullen’s. Warm and brown. Never icy, never mean. He shook his head and crumpled the letter.

‘If it’s all right with you,’ Ellana said softly after some time. ‘I’d like to leave immediately after the council meeting. Tonight.’

Dorian rubbed at his brow absently and sighed. He glanced out the window, but the courtyard was now as it was before the Inquisitor’s return. Quiet. ‘No delaying the inevitable, I see. Best to get it over with.’

‘Dorian,’ Ellana placed her hand on his shoulder, the one without the anchor. He turned back to her. ’I won’t let them take you. Whoever is in Redcliffe, I don’t care—you’re coming back with me. With us.’

Dorian covered her small hand with his and squeezed.

‘Thank you,’ was his quiet response. Talking to Cullen would have to wait.

* * *

 

‘I’m leaving again tonight,’ Ellana was saying. The meeting had run late into the afternoon and into the early evening. ‘Right after this, actually. An issue has come up with Dorian’s family. He’s coming with me to Redcliffe, and then we’ll be back.’

‘An issue?’ Josephine sounded alarmed glancing sharp between Leliana and the Inquisitor. Cullen had been leaning over the map, but straightened at the Inquisitor's words.

‘Just a family issue,’ Ellana assured her. ‘That’s all. Nothing that will put the Inquisition or its reputation or anything at risk.’

'Well, if you say so,' Josephine still looked worried, but scribbled a report down nonetheless.

‘Commander, you look troubled,’ Leliana’s voice was silky. She was smiling. Cullen hadn't realized that his hands were shaking. He placed them on the pommel of his sword.

‘It’s _fine_ ,’ Ellana said, turning to Cullen. ‘Nothing mage-y or weird. His family wants him to come home or something, so we’re just going to meet up with whoever in Redcliffe and tell them…no.’

Cullen’s expression only darkened. Dorian had touched briefly upon some lingering problems he had with his family in Tevinter during their chess sessions, but only superficially so. ‘When did you…when did this information come to pass?’

‘Today,’ Ellana said. ‘As soon as I returned. There’s really no need to worry about there being some ulterior— ‘

‘The Commander and Dorian have grown quite close while you were away, Inquisitor,’ Leliana adjusted her hood and smoothed some hair out her face. 'He's probably very worried about Dorian, aren't you Commander?'

Ellana was sure she had never seen Cullen look so awkward and lost at how to respond. It seemed like neither had Leliana and Josephine, who were absolutely delighting at their Commander's loss of composure.

‘Really?’ Ellana's expression brightened at once. ‘That’s so nice! I felt bad about leaving him behind for so long with his books.’

‘Yes, well,’ was Cullen’s response. What was Leliana playing at? He glared at her, but she only smiled sweet and serene back at him. Josephine giggled, seemingly relaxed.

‘I think it’s wonderful,’ Josephine sighed wistfully. ‘A templar and a Tevinter mage.’

‘I don’t…what, ‘ Cullen spluttered. ‘Really, ladies. Our friendship is anything but remarkable.’

‘If you say so, Commander,’ Leliana replied sing song and smooth, before swiftly changing the topic to something her agents had acquired, leaving Cullen irritated and confused.

* * *

 

Night had fallen properly by the time Ellana stepped into Cullen’s office. Cullen looked up quickly, something hopeful in his expression before settling back down when he saw it was only her. Not Dorian.

_Only the Inquisitor_? What was he thinking.

‘I just wanted to check in with you,’ Ellana said, oblivious to Cullen’s musings. She shut the door behind her carefully, and turned to face him. He looked tired, as always. ‘You know, about the…lyrium thing.’

_Lyrium thing_. If he weren't already strung tight from the council meeting earlier, he would have chuckled at her turn of phrase. 

Instead, Cullen stood, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘It’s getting worse,’ he admitted softly but didn’t elaborate. Ellana nodded, sympathetic.

‘You have to stay strong, Cullen,’ there was something pleading in Ellana’s voice, and when he turned to face her she looked sad. ‘Everything will be okay. Besides, now you have Dorian to keep you company. Maybe he can help you.’

The sudden change of subject left the Commander momentarily speechless and just as unprepared as he had been in the council meeting. He stared awkwardly at the Inquisitor for a moment before turning quickly back towards his desk.

‘You know Leliana and Josephine were just teasing you about it before, right? You and Dorian.’

‘Yes,’ grumbled Cullen. He shifted his papers around for no reason. ‘But I hardly think…there’s no need for any kind of…jokes.'

‘You’re not…ashamed are you?’ Ellana frowned suddenly. ‘That he’s Tevinter? Or a mage?’

‘Maker’s Breath, _Inquisitor_ , no,’ Cullen glanced sharply up, eyes wide. ‘No. Not at all. Is that why…? Do people think that?’

Ellana shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, but you seem a bit…testy about—oh.’ Ellana’s eyes widened. ‘Oh! Are you guys? I mean, do you and Dorian? You know? Together?’

Cullen stared wordlessly as Ellana made vague gestures with her hands before understanding settled in. His eyes widened and the Inquisitor dropped her hands to her sides and looked as if she expected Cullen to say something harsh and defensive.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘That was rude. But you know, if he makes you happy then that’s great! And I’m serious—maybe he can help you with your withdrawal. Ask him about it when we’re back okay? Stay strong.’

And then she left, just as quick as she had entered.

Cullen remained standing silent and something like sadness began to creep in between the cracks of his armour and over his skin: Dorian had not come to say goodbye. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just make out already

Cullen hadn’t heard the door to his office open but when he looked up, Dorian was standing in front of his desk. 

‘You’re back?’ Cullen rose. ‘I’m—did the guards not sound the horns?’

Dorian didn’t answer his question. He stood relaxed and easy and behind him dust swirled and glinted in the late afternoon sun.  ‘Did you miss me?’ the mage purred, and Cullen’s mouth went dry. 

‘What?’ he asked, although he had heard Dorian perfectly. Unease began to trickle low in his gut but Cullen couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had him so nervous. He _had_ missed Dorian.

‘I said,’ Dorian’s voice was pitched dark and sultry and Cullen’s breath caught in his throat as the mage took a slow step towards him. He was beautiful, Cullen realised with a pang. So beautiful—how had he not seen that until now? ‘Did you miss me.’

‘I…’ Cullen trailed off, watching wearily as Dorian stalked around his desk and pushed himself into the space between it and Cullen. The mage canted his hips ever so slightly so they were flush against the Commander’s. Cullen swallowed hard— he couldn’t move, his gaze locked on to Dorian’s. The mage’s eyes were stormy and sharp, pupils blown wide with desire. 

‘Because,’ Dorian continued, hooking a finger under the Commander’s fur mantle to pull him closer. Heat—summer hot and sweet—lanced through Cullen straight to his groin and he was sure that the other man could hear the pounding of his heart. ‘I missed _you_.’

Around them silence draped heavy and stifling. Slants of sunlight splashed long and lazy against the floor and walls and dust continued to dance gold and light through the air; for awhile that was the only movement in the office. 

‘Dorian,’ Cullen whispered finally, speaking the man’s name like a prayer. ‘What are you doing?’

Dorian cocked his head to the side, eyes dark and wicked as his mouth tilted slow into a grin. He released Cullen’s mantle, but the Commander did not move. Neither did Dorian. 

‘You want this, Cullen,’ he said. ‘I know you do.’

As if to prove his point, Dorian began to slowly undo his cloak, gaze still locked on to Cullen’s. It fell away, pooling on the desk behind him, and as the mage continued with the ties and buckles of his clothes, Cullen felt something within him coming undone as well. The unease he’d felt earlier was replaced with anticipation and want, thick and heady that surged hard inside him. 

Dorian always seemed to know what he needed. 

It had been so long since anyone had desired him. Had touched him like this. Cullen’s eyes moved hungrily over Dorian’s exposed flesh—he was never sure how the man managed to have such an impressive physique for a mage; he was built like a warrior. He reached out to touch Dorian, and was mildly surprised to see his shaking hands bare. He didn’t remember pulling off his gloves, but he also didn’t remember taking off his armour either. 

It had been so long since he had wanted anybody, too. In his thick haze of lust, Cullen couldn’t remember the last person he’d touched, last person he’d kissed or made love to or fucked or— 

Dorian’s skin was smooth and dark and as Cullen ran a hand appreciatively down the mage’s arm, muscles flexed strong and sure under his touch. Dorian groaned softly and palmed the Commander’s broad shoulders and back, nails scratching lightly over his skin.  

‘Tell me you want this,’ Dorian whispered, fisting the hair at the nape of Cullen’s neck as he pulled the other man closer, closer. The mage’s breath was hot against the Commander’s lips, and then he leaned in and kissed him and—oh—his lips were so soft, so _wicked_ and Cullen fell apart. A groan caught in his throat as he parted his lips to run his tongue hot and slick against Dorian’s, desperate with need, desperate for _him_ but when he pulled back to catch his breath the naked figure in his arms was not Dorian, but Neria Surana. 

‘Tell me you want this,’ she whispered as blood streamed from her eyes. 

Cullen bolted upright in his bed with a shout, eyes wide with terror in the grey gloom of dawn. With shaking hands, he reached around the rub the spot where the Dorian in his nightmare had touched him—a sharp ache began to throb at the base of his skull. Between his legs, a different kind of ache throbbed.  

Today would not be a good day.

 

* * *

‘Do you wanna talk about it?’

‘If I say ‘no’, promise you won’t pout.’

Ellana rolled her eyes. ‘ _Dorian._ ’

Dorian sighed and glanced over at the Inquisitor. She looked worried. 

Meeting with Dorian’s father had been…troubling, but quick. 

And painful, but Dorian was glad for the quick part. Soon they would be back at Skyhold and Dorian was desperate to get away and bury this whole thing deep within himself, probably with the help of too many glasses of wine. If he were lucky, maybe he’d forget the whole thing entirely. 

‘Maybe later, Inquisitor,’ he replied, hoping his tone didn’t betray the bone-deep weariness he felt. Encounters with his family always left him feeling like he’d been torn apart, careful barriers destroyed and scattered. It would take time to put everything back together. 

Halward had asked for his forgiveness—what a joke. A terrible, cruel joke. There was no way that Dorian would allow his father the punchline of actually returning to Tevinter with him, and for what? For another go at being changed? More blood magic rituals? Never—especially not now where his work within the Inquisition actually meant something and mattered. 

The Inquisitor still regarded him with concern as they continued slowly, mounts picking a winding trails gingerly over sharp rocks, but didn’t press the matter. She had seen how hurt Dorian had been at the Gull and Lantern, how his pain had teetered electric close to hysterical. Always in control, always grinning, scheming Dorian had come undone in the shadow of his father. His voice had broke when he told her, then, finally, about why his family wanted to change him, twist him, break him with blood magic.

Dorian sighed, hoping that maybe before he drowned himself in wine that he might have the emotional resources to convey to Ellana just how much her support through this whole mess meant to him. 

‘Maybe talk to Cullen about it when we’re back at Skyhold?’ she offered after a few more minutes of silence, startling Dorian out of his troubled musings. ‘Leliana told me that the two of you have become close.’

‘Did she now?’ he intoned mildly, brows creasing. ‘We play chess sometimes. I won’t bother him with my personal woes. ’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he’s busy, if you hadn’t noticed, Inquisitor.’

His tone was icy, but Ellana just laughed. ‘I know he’s busy, Dorian, but Leliana told me that you guys spend almost every night together.’

‘What else has the spymaster told you?’ Dorian scowled, twisting in his saddle to glare at Ellana. She just grinned. 

‘Nothing,’ she said innocently. ‘It’s funny, though. When I asked Cullen about his friendship with you, he reacted the same way. All grumpy and weird.’

‘I am not,’ Dorian spluttered, haughty. ‘ _Grumpy_. Or _weird_. Never use those words to describe me, Inquisitor. I prefer ‘moody’ or ‘enigmatic’, thanks. And why, pray tell, were you harassing the Commander about…about all that.’ He made a show of indignantly straightening his robes and smoothing his hair before continuing. 

Now it was Ellana’s turn to look uncomfortable.

‘Ah, well. It’s just that—lately Cullen isn’t feeling so well,’ she said carefully. ’So I was happy when I found out that you two were getting along, and asked him about it. I think he cares a lot about you, you know.’

Dorian chose to ignore the last part to instead dissect and consider later. ‘Do you know what’s wrong with our dear Commander? Is he sick? He always looks so unwell, although he thinks he’s hiding it well. He’s not fooling anyone.’

Dorian expected the Inquisitor to tease him about why he cared so much or to laugh or say that Cullen was just a very busy man and under too much stress; he would have believed her. Instead, her expression darkened with worry. 

‘I think…you should ask him,’ Ellana bit her lip and looked off into the horizon. They’d probably be back in Skyhold by nightfall. ‘He’d probably tell you, if you asked.’

Well, that was worrisome. Dorian remembered how he’d been wanting to ask Cullen about his health before all this. As a… _friend_. 

‘By the way,’ Dorian was careful to keep his tone light and airy. ‘Why _do_ you think the Commander cares about me? As he should, by the way— I’m beautiful and have an amazing wardrobe.’

‘If you say so,’ Ellana teased, giggling as Dorian huffed at her. ‘But he got all shifty and tense when I asked about it. At first I wondered if he was embarrassed because you’re Tevinter or something, but he got kinda mad when I said that. So then I was like, oh, you guys must be _together_ —‘

‘ _What_ ,’ Dorian hissed. He whipped around so quickly to glare at the Inquisitor that he almost unseated himself from his horse. ‘ _What_. Tell me you did _not_ —‘

‘I dunno, it just came out!’ she whined, suddenly flustered. ‘I was really embarrassed afterwards, okay?’

Dorian turned wordlessly around and stared ahead, eyes wide but unseeing as he willed himself to spontaneously cease to exist. Much to his displeasure, he continued to live. He was mortified.  

But intrigued. 

‘So, what did he say?’

‘Err, nothing,’ Ellana tugged at her robes awkwardly. ‘I just kinda left. But he didn’t look mad or weirded out or anything. Just…confused?’

‘Of course he was confused,’ Dorian sighed. This woman, the Herald of Andraste, the leader of one of Thedas’ most formidable organisations, was going to be the death of him with her complete lack of social tact. And probably Josephine’s as well, for that matter: the Ambassador had been attempting to coach Ellana on court etiquette and intricacies for the upcoming ball at Halamshiral to, apparently, little success. 

‘Well, you guys can laugh about it together when we’re back at Skyhold, anyway.’

‘Oh yes, that will be the first thing I do,’ Dorian quipped, and the Inquisitor found herself rolling her eyes again. ‘Skip right up to the Commander and have a jolly laugh with him over how you asked if we’re sleeping together. I can’t _wait_.’

‘Great, I’ll get Leliana to ask Cullen about your reunion during the next war table meeting.’ Ellana knew she would do no such thing—it was fun getting Dorian to preen and fall back into his usual theatrics like this, but she did genuinely feel poorly about the last exchange she’d had with Cullen. She shouldn’t have jumped so recklessly to conclusions, but as she watched Dorian huff and fidget Ellana felt like perhaps her assumptions weren’t so unwarranted. 

‘Don’t you smirk at me,’ Dorian grumbled. ‘Can we talk about something else? How about the sad state of your library. Or how Iron Bull is apparently allergic to shirts.’

 

* * *

From his office, Cullen watched as Cassandra ran drills with the recruits in the rain. Despite it being well into the afternoon, the grounds were hazy grey with fog and gloom and Cullen had to squint to see his soldiers properly. Around Skyhold, torches winked soft and orange through the mist. 

He would have liked to have been out there himself, rain or no rain. With a sword and shield in hand, he could work himself to exhaustion and forget, for awhile, how sick he felt. Transforming the recruits into battle-ready soldiers filled him with a sense of purpose and duty that the lyrium daily stripped from him, and not for the first time Cullen toyed with the idea of just giving up entirely. It would be very easy to do so.

And not for the first time, he swallowed that bitter thought, clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on something else. 

He would not _fail_. Not this time. Not ever again. 

He took a shaky breath and sat down at his desk and, because it felt good, replayed conversations he’d had with Dorian over chess in his mind. He missed Dorian’s wit and banter, sing-song teasing, clever jokes and flirtations, because they relaxed him. The other man made him feel good. He wanted his company. Sometime during the other man’s absence, thoughts that had once floated abstract and unsure became obvious and realised: he cared for Dorian. Something like yearning brushed and hesitated just beyond his grasp— but then images from that nightmare rolled over and over in his mind and he found himself missing that feeling of _being_ desired and _having_ desire and— 

Cullen pondered the fact that if Dorian were to extend such an offer outside his dreams, his immediate reaction would not be to refuse. 

‘Makers breath,’ Cullen muttered, leaning his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. What was happening to him? 

Someone knocked smartly on his door and before Cullen could snarl at them to leave him be, Dorian strode in. 

‘Yes, hello,’ the mage said lightly as if they had only just seen each other yesterday. Cullen just stared as Dorian removed his wet cloak and tossed it carelessly over a chair. He walked over to Cullen’s desk, shifted some of the man’s reports around and sat himself lightly against it, arms crossed. ‘I’m back.’

And suddenly Cullen felt like everything was manageable again. Things would work out. He would be okay. This was fine. What had been confusing and strange during the mage's absence now became clear and comfortable.

‘I missed you,’ Cullen said earnestly, and then blushed because that was a terribly forward thing to say. ‘I didn’t—‘

‘You did?’ Dorian cut him off, delighted. He carefully rearranged his expression to be teasing and smug but inside something thrilled and sang. ‘You missed _me_? Goodness, Commander, I’m _so_ sorry to have left you pining, but don’t worry—I’m here now.’

Cullen chuckled. Maker, it felt good to laugh. ‘At least give me warning next time you decide to disappear into the night. When did you and the Inquisitor return?’

‘Last night sometime after midnight,’ Dorian replied, before pausing. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t stop by to say something before leaving. It happened all quite suddenly.’ He watched as Cullen’s expression brightened.

The Commander waved his hand. ‘No matter, Dorian. Was everything well with your family?’

‘Ah,’ Dorian stood up and went to Cullen’s bookshelf. It would be easy to brush it off, make it seem like it was no big deal—like he had with Ellana. Instead, he said softly, ‘No.’

‘Dorian?’ 

‘But what about you, Commander?’ Dorian turned back towards Cullen. This was difficult. ‘The Inquisitor hinted to me that you’re unwell.’

Cullen opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He frowned, and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s nothing,’ he finally said. 

The two stared at each other for a moment before Dorian laughed softly. ‘I think you and I are quite similar, Commander,’ he said before levelling his gaze pointedly at a bottle of spirits on Cullen’s desk. ‘Would you care to join me as I drown my sorrows in your wine?’

The wine loosened both their tongues, but considering the rain and gloom outside spending the afternoon warm with wine was certainly not unpleasant. Dorian opened up bit by bit, trying to keep everything light, casual, factual but emotion began to push wavering and jagged through the cracks of his facade. It was important that Cullen understand his feelings—it was important that he understood all of it, not just the bare bones summary of his parents’ motivations and his reaction as if it were some simple cause and effect equation. Dorian needed him—wanted him—to know and it all came spilling and tumbling out; there was no way he could have said anything like this to the Inquisitor when she’d asked him to talk about it. 

‘Your choice in partners…is really that big of a concern in Tevinter?’ Cullen asked as Dorian drank deeply from his cup.

‘It must seem strange to you Southerners,’ Dorian sighed and refilled his drink. He gracefully slouched in the chair Cullen had dragged over, the same one his cloak lay folded over. ‘But in Tevinter, we must be perfect: perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind.’ He punctuated his speech with mocking gestures. 

‘You seem quite alright to me,’ Cullen said, staring into his cup. He felt Dorian’s eyes on him before stammering, ‘F-for what it’s worth, that is.’

Dorian smirked. ‘Are you _flirting_ with me, Commander? Trying to take advantage of my sorrow?’

Cullen snapped up straight and looked panicked, ‘No—of course not—I’m…you are…Maker’s _breath_ —’

Dorian threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud and joyful. ‘I’m just teasing, Commander. I missed teasing you while I was away, you know.’

‘I missed our talks,’ Cullen admitted. Outside it began to rain harder. ‘Or rather, listening to you talk. You’re…ah,’ he was blushing again. Cullen set his cup down before immediately picking it back up again. And then set it back down. ‘I like spending time with you.’ He finished lamely. 

He expected Dorian to preen and gloat but instead the mage just looked at him with a gentle expression. Cullen’s gaze fell to his lips—they had been so soft and hot and— 

‘Well, you’ve heard the gist of my delightful reunion with my father in Redcliffe,’ Dorian sat up and propped an elbow on the table. ‘Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re sick with.’

’It’s nothing,’ Cullen’s demeanour changed in an instant, suddenly sharp and closed off. He looked down and away to where the box containing his lyrium was stashed away. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Cullen,’ Dorian said, resting a hand on the other man’s arm. Cullen immediately looked up, expression softened. It was the first time Dorian had addressed him by his name and not his title; something loosened inside him. 

‘I had hoped…not to worry anyone,’ he began shakily. Dorian chuckled low in his throat but did not remove his hand.

‘You did a terrible job,’ he said. ‘The more we played chess together the more I saw that something was wrong.’

‘It’s…I no longer take lyrium. I haven’t since I joined the Inquisition. It’s been months now.’

Dorian only nodded. ‘You’ve been going through withdrawal?’

‘Yes,’ Cullen’s gaze was hard, still closed. ‘Some days are better than others, but I…accept this suffering. I will not be bound to the Order or the life I had before all this.’

Dorian knew little about Cullen’s life before the Inquisition, save from what he gleaned from eavesdropping and conversations with others. Cassandra seemed to know the most about his past, but she still hadn't warmed up entirely to Dorian and the mage was certain that she wouldn't respond positively to any questions he had about the man. 

‘How does it effect you? The withdrawals.’

‘I don’t sleep…well,’ Cullen answered, the weight of explaining what the lyrium robbed from him heavy and exhausting. Talking about feelings, things that pained him--he'd never been good at it; the words were always all jumbled up thick inside him. ‘I have nightmares. I—‘

_Dorian’s fist in his hair, lips against his, Neria’s eyes streaming thick tears of blood_ —

‘— feel feverish sometimes, unwell. Dizzy. Nauseous. But it passes, comes and goes.’ Cullen paused and rubbed at his forehead. ‘I’m sorry to burden you with this, Dorian. There’s no need for any…concern.’

‘Too late for that, I’m afraid,’ Dorian frowned. He gave Cullen’s arm a gentle squeeze before sitting back and crossing his arms. ‘I wish you would have told me earlier.’

‘I didn’t want to worry anyone. The Inquisitor and Seeker Cassandra know about the…situation, and that was fine,’ Cullen continued on stubbornly. 

Dorian was silent for a few moments. ‘I’m not surprised, actually,’ he said finally. 

‘Not surprised?’ Cullen repeated. ‘About what?’

‘Did you know that to mages, Templars have a certain scent? Because of the lyrium,’ Dorian explained quickly, not wanting the Commander to misinterpret his meaning as something cruel or disingenuous. 

Cullen still looked confused. ‘I’ve heard of that, vaguely. Why?’

‘It was stronger the first time we started spending time together, but it’s much fainter now. Now I can hardly tell. I don’t know much about southern Templars and their lyrium methodology otherwise I probably could have figured it all out without you telling me.’

‘Oh,’ was all Cullen said. 

‘No need to worry,’ Dorian continued airily. ‘About the scent, that is. It’s a very…attractive scent. Just in case you were wondering.’

‘I…haven’t been told that.’ 

‘Oh, yes,’ Dorian observed his cup, feeling a little silly—but probably not as silly as he would feel if he were more sober. Cullen had just opened up to him and here here was babbling on about the other man’s scent. ‘Very distracting, actually.’

‘And why would it be distracting?’ Cullen leaned in and there was something challenging in his tone that surprised Dorian. A blush was spreading quick up Cullen's neck and dusting across his cheeks, but his gaze remained frank and direct. Dorian bit his lip, and Cullen tracked the movement carefully and there was something strangely savoury in his gaze. 

‘I shouldn’t say, really,’ Dorian said but his composure was slipping. He shifted in his chair, suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot because how was he supposed to tell the Commander that it had turned him on?

‘Did you like it?’ Cullen’s voice was low and had Dorian the strength, he might have shoved the desk separating them aside and--

Dorian placed his cup of wine down, and in doing so brushed his fingers lightly against Cullen’s gloved ones. Cullen’s gaze flickered sharp between their barely touching hands and back to Dorian’s handsome face. _Pupils blown wide with desire_. Cullen licked his lips. Lightning flashed outside, quickly followed by a roar of thunder. 

‘Very much so. I could barely control myself, Commander.’ That was a little overdramatic, but seeing how the other man’s breath hitched in his throat made it worthwhile. He imagined grazing his lips and teeth against Cullen’s throat and biting and—

‘You don’t have to always call me that, Dorian. Not like this.’

It occurred to Dorian, then, that perhaps his fear and hesitation at showing the Commander any kind of affection or interest was unnecessary. Maybe there hadn’t been any need to worry at all—Cullen had never spurned or turned away any of his earlier flirtations, nor had he shown any discomfort in them. The fact that the Commander of the Inquisition delighted in his attention sent his pulse racing, not with anything nefarious, but with want. He wanted this man. 

Judging by Cullen’s heated gaze and how he hadn’t pulled his hand away or stammered anything uncomfortable or negative, Dorian had reason to believe that perhaps there was some reciprocation. What had been tentative and fleeting and barely hopeful and almost dangerous before flared solid and _real_ inside him. This could be real. This could happen. 

Not _just_ friends. They didn't _have_ to be just friends. 

If they were in the Imperium, they’d fuck—and then Cullen would never speak to him again. The chess games would stop. Their meetings. What friendship and attraction they’d built up would be finished and shattered and gone in the morning. 

Good thing they weren’t in the Imperium, then. 

‘Not like this? When we’re _together_ , you mean.’ Dorian continued. Cullen was about to move his hand and close it over Dorian’s and fumble some sort of awkward and embarrassing advance, when the door burst open. Cullen immediately pulled back and stood up as a scout saluted and informed the Commander that his presence was needed for a meeting with the Inquisitor. 

‘Acknowledged,’ Cullen grumbled. ‘And next time knock _first_ , recruit.’

The recruits eyes darted nervously between Cullen—standing straight and tense—and Dorian—still lounging and downing the rest of his drink. ‘Y-yes Commander,’ he saluted again and then exited quickly. 

Dorian stretched languidly and groaned before setting his cup gently on the desk. Unfortunate. This was his cue to go.

‘I’ll be making my way back to the library, it seems. Thanks for the wine, Cullen. Game later?’ He spoke lightly, but he felt regret over being interrupted by the runner. So close!

‘Of course, Dorian. I’ll come find you.’ Cullen’s gaze was not faltering or shy but frank and direct. Heat still smouldered warm in his eyes and Dorian couldn’t help but smirk. 

‘You know where I’ll be.’

 

 


End file.
